


I'll catch up to you

by tobeferre



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeferre/pseuds/tobeferre
Summary: Takao confronts Midorima after the Jabberwock game.(A kind-of fix-it fic for that heart-breaking Akashi-Midorima shot, for all of us Midotaka shippers.)





	I'll catch up to you

**Author's Note:**

> My heart broke after watching Extra Game, and this is the result. Enjoy!
> 
> (Title from Mario Kart Love Song by Sam Hart)

When Midorima comes back, Kazunari's waiting for him in the Vorpal Swords locker room, fingers curled tight around his remote control.

"Takao," Midorima says, startled, stopping short in the doorway.

"Shin-chan," Kazunari says, and salutes him with the lucky item. "Been waiting for you. You're kinda late."

Midorima must notice the way Kazunari's grin doesn't reach his eyes, because he doesn't say anything about the remote control, doesn't even move from his spot in the doorframe, just looks at Kazunari sitting on his bench. "I was playing basketball with the others," he says finally. "Kagami appears to be leaving for America next week."

"Huh. Is he coming back?"

"Apparently not."

"Well, that sucks." Kazunari stretches on his bench. Midorima watches him warily. "Seirin just got a lot less fun to play."

"They still have Kuroko."

"What's a shadow without his light, Shin-chan," Kazunari says. "Did Kagami at least tell him? Dude's got to be pretty devastated."

"Kuroko appears to have known," Midorima says. He still doesn't move from the doorway. Kazunari looks at him—posture stiff, the slope of his shoulders tense, green eyes fixed on Kazunari like he's something dangerous—and laughs, mirthless.

"Well," he says. "At least he _told_ him."

Midorima's smart enough to realise they aren't talking about Seirin anymore; Kazunari sees the pieces click in his head, his eyes lighting for a second with comprehension. He takes a step into the locker room, still watching Kazunari. Kazunari doesn't look away—just meets his gaze head on, unblinking.

"Shin-chan."

"It was an impromptu game," Midorima says, not breaking eye contact. "I was not aware it was going to be happening until Aomine suggested it."

"Phones were invented for a reason, Shin-chan," Kazunari says evenly. "Did you even think to let me know you were going to be late?"

"Takao."

"Do you know what time it is? It's eleven PM. I was supposed to be home an hour ago." Kazunari stands up. "I know you hate replying to text messages, but, like. I'm your boyfriend."

"Takao—"

"Shin-chan," Kazunari says lightly. "Let me lay it out for you real quick. Our move, and you used it with your Teikou teammates. And then you vanish with said Teikou teammates for over two hours and completely forget to tell me where you are, no explanation for anything. I don't think I'm being unfair."

(Kazunari can still see it. The ball twisting through the pass into Midorima's waiting hands, landing with unpracticed perfection. Akashi's eyes glinting as he turned away, mouth turned up at the corners.)

(All Kazunari had been able to do was laugh.)

Midorima's still again, halfway out of the doorframe. Green eyes flash uncertainly behind framed glasses; he pushes them up with two fingers. Kazunari watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

"Kazunari," Midorima says quietly. "It was necessary."

Despite everything, Kazunari's heart jumps at Midorima's use of his given name. Still—it's not quite enough to erase the whole of tonight.

"Yeah, Shin-chan," he says, quirks his mouth in a smirk he doesn't mean. "I'm not saying it wasn't. Jabberwock are assholes, clearly they needed an ass-kicking. And that three was amazing. As usual."

"If this is about Akashi—"

Kazunari sighs. "Not everything is about Akashi, Shin-chan." (Because it isn't. Midorima could have pulled off that three-pointer with just about anyone on that first-string team; that's why the Generation of Miracles is called the Generation of Miracles.)

The problem is that he agreed to even pull it off at all.

Midorima doesn't look convinced. He adjusts his glasses again with long, slender fingers. (Kazunari's caught them in his hands before, twined his own through them. Taped them.)

It was those fingers that caught the ball Akashi'd sent flying, on the court. That'd made a perfect three-pointer that changed the flow of the most important game they've played in a while—at least for a few minutes.

"Then—"

A wave of weariness crashes over Kazunari, settles into his bones all at once. Suddenly all he wants is for this goddamn day to be over.

"It's a bit of a shitty feeling, that's all," he says. "Sitting on that bench watching something we practiced together for so long get pulled off so easily. I'm not sure you knew. Just—think about it next time, okay?" He picks his bag up from where it's lying on the bench. Kazunari doesn't even know why Coach insisted on them bringing extra supplies, he and the others were always going to be warming the bench as long as the Generation of Miracles were playing. "Should we be going?"

Midorima watches him for a moment, frowns. "You're still upset."

"Clearly." Midorima's frown deepens. Kazunari takes in the tension in his broad shoulders, the way his eyes are clouded over, sighs again. "Shin-chan, it's fine. I'll be fine. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to date you, you know."

"By that you mean?"

"That I'm never going to be your first priority," Kazunari says, and shrugs. "C'mon, we're both going to be late home, we can talk while we walk, yeah?"

They don't speak as they walk out of the locker room. Midorima's never been talkative, but today he's abnormally quiet. It's fine. Kazunari doesn't feel like starting a conversation, either.

What do you say when there's nothing that can be said, anyway.

It must be fifteen minutes before they're actually out of the stadium, it's that huge. (The Jabberwock versus Vorpal Swords match drew so much attention, it's actually ridiculous.) Kazunari tilts his head upwards to see the stars—not that there usually are any to be seen, this is Tokyo, after all—and draws in a surprised breath when he feels Midorima's hand curl around his own, their arms brushing as taped fingers slot into place, warm through the wrapping. When Kazunari looks at him, he's staring resolutely ahead, the tips of his ears tinged red.

Midorima never initiates hand-holding.

(And they're going into the city, they're going into _Tokyo_ , they really shouldn't—people are going to see, and not everyone is—)

"Shin-chan," Kazunari says.

"It's fine," Midorima says, voice low. Kazunari is very aware of the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of the tape familiar and foreign, all at once. Their arms brush again. "I—you mentioned you were never going to be my first priority."

Kazunari laughs, quiet. "It's okay, you know?" He looks away. Midorima's grip on his hand tightens. "It's always going to be about something else, Shin-chan. I know that."

"Kazunari."

"I'm not, like." Kazunari looks down. They're skirting puddles as they walk; it must have rained while they were in the match. "I don't have unrealistic expectations, this isn't Romeo and Juliet, clearly, those guys were mad. I know. I just—Teikou, they're always going to be more for you than I can ask to be."

Kazunari knew this the first time he saw them on a middle-school basketball court, the Generation of Miracles. Knew it the first time he saw Midorima Shintarou shoot, all calm green eyes and effortless grace, the ball arcing impossibly high through the air. Knew he was destined for greater things than just fifteen years old in a middle-school basketball jersey already standing head and shoulders above everyone else.

Teikou is part of that—Teikou has always been part of that. They've attained the unattainable, the Generation of Miracles. They represent everything everyone else can never hope to be. It's not so far-fetched to see them aiming for goals horizons away, reaching for something the likes of Kazunari can never hope to even be allowed to see. Even walking like this, shoulder to shoulder—Midorima is always going to be on a whole other level with only the other Miracles for company, somewhere high above Kazunari's head, someplace he can't reach.

And it makes sense, doesn't it, to stay closest to the only other people who'll understand the burden of greatness?

_(Ha.)_

Beside him, Midorima stops walking.

"That is patently untrue."

Kazunari refuses to look up at him. "Is it, Shin-chan," he says quietly. "Think about it."

He barely even has time to take a breath before Midorima's untangling their fingers. Startled, Kazunari looks up at him only to feel taped fingers on his wrist. One hand settles on Kazunari's shoulder and pulls him around, so he has no choice but to face his boyfriend.

"Shin-chan—"

Midorima's eyes are visibly green behind his glasses, even in the dim light of the streetlamps. Visibly darker. There's an unhappy tilt to the corners of his mouth as he regards Kazunari, fingers firm on his wrist. Standing like this, Midorima is so close. Kazunari swallows.

"I don't need to think about it," Midorima says. He blinks, and his lashes sweep downwards. (Pretty.) The collar of his t-shirt is pulled lopsided by his sling bag, collarbones visible. "You do know that I—" he hesitates. "I care about you."

"Yeah, I know." Kazunari breathes out, looks down at his shoes. He can't look at Midorima when he's like this, intense and vulnerable all at once. (Too much. It's too much.) "I just—I know Teikou is important, yeah? Akashi and Kuroko and—they're important to you. Enough that you won't—that I'm not—" he exhales roughly, tries for a smirk. "Anyway. It doesn't matter, let's not talk about it, I'm here to stay, you're not getting rid of me that easily, Shin-chan—"

Cool air closes around Kazunari's wrist where Midorima's hand was, and then taped fingers are tilting Kazunari's chin up, coaxing his gaze upwards. "Kazunari. Look at me."

It's a simple gesture, Midorima's fingers gentle on his chin, but the jolt that surges through Kazunari's stomach is almost dizzying. (It's not like they haven't been closer than this, done _more_ than this, but—) Slowly, he raises his eyes to Midorima's.

"I want to apologise," Midorima says. He looks almost contrite, eyes serious. His voice is very low. "I just—I had not been aware—"

"No, you _really_ don't have to do this," Kazunari says. Midorima Shintarou, apologising. Kazunari can't help the way his heart skips a beat; between this and the way Midorima's holding him, it's practically unavoidable, the way every nerve in his body feels charged with electricity. He raises his voice back to a normal volume, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Like, I get it, I'm saying I knew this and chose to be with you anyway, you idiot, did you have to make me spell out something so embarrassing—"

"Kazunari," Midorima says again, cutting off his babbling, and his given name in Midorima's mouth is absolutely too much, Kazunari can't hear him say it that many times in a row and still look him in the eye, and—

His gaze dips away from Midorima's face again, his head tilting forward of its own accord, but Midorima simply brings his other hand to Kazunari's cheek, tips his chin upwards a second time, and it's completely unfair how Kazunari's mouth goes dry at the gesture, just like the rest of Midorima is completely unfair—his basketball and his grades and his eyes and hands and perfect _mouth_ —

"I told you to look at me," Midorima says, and this time there's faint irritation in his voice. (There's the Shin-chan Kazunari knows and loves.) It helps to bring the tension down a few notches closer to normal, enough that Kazunari calms down enough to look back up. "Also, do you never stop talking?"

The atmosphere's shifted. Kazunari takes a deep breath. "Haven't been given much incentive to," he says, and musters up his most shit-eating grin. "Shut me up yourself, if you—"

Midorima runs his thumb over Kazunari's mouth, slow and deliberate, and Kazunari does shut up. "I'm trying to apologise," Midorima says, but his tone has shifted into something almost conversational. He knows what he's doing to Kazunari, dammit. "It's not something I often do, so if you would be so kind as to be quiet while I finish, it would be very much appreciated."

Heat flares in Kazunari's stomach, the warmth spreading upwards into his chest. It's completely embarrassing. "Can't argue with that," he says, almost helplessly. (Because this is what Midorima does to him.) (Has done to him, from Day One, if Kazunari's being honest. Because Kazunari doesn't know when he fell or how, but this—it's enough for him to want. To stay.)

Midorima's mouth curls upwards at one corner, so slight that Kazunari nearly misses it; he starts to let his thumb rest on the corner of Kazunari's mouth, then pauses like he's remembered he's in the middle of an explanation. (Apology. Whatever.) He lowers his eyebrows and settles into a more sombre expression.

"I was not aware my actions could be construed as putting my middle-school basketball team above our relationship."

Kazunari lets out a breath. "Like I said, Shin-chan," he says, and if it comes out matter-of-fact, that's because he's already thought it through a hundred times before. This is the version of the story that fits best, that clicks. "I already knew. You don't—first of all, you wouldn't be Midorima Shintarou if you didn't give basketball your full attention, you know? Anything you do, it's with single-minded intensity. And Teikou's part of that, I know. Teikou, Akashi, Kuroko—they're, like, the final bosses of this whole game, and—"

Midorima's mouth turns downwards. "And what are you?"

Kazunari blinks, not expecting to be interrupted. "I dunno, a side quest?"

Midorima's fingers tense on Kazunari's chin, hand going suddenly stiff on his cheek. "Retract that statement. Please tell me you haven't, all this time, thought of yourself as a _side quest_ —"

"Well, yeah, what else was I supposed to—"

"For goodness' sake," Midorima almost snaps. " _Takao_ —Kazunari—" He takes a deep breath, shoulders heaving. His hands come to rest on Kazunari's shoulders. "Did it ever occur to you that being in a relationship with you is, perhaps, also something I would approach with my best efforts?"

Kazunari blinks again, thrown. "Uh—"

"This is ridiculous," Midorima says, and even in the yellow light of the streetlamps his flush is evident. His hands slip off Kazunari's shoulders, arms landing back by his sides. "You are—Teikou is not something I can disregard, you would be correct in that aspect. Basketball is something we will always have in common. There was so much between us, we—perhaps you are right and they are the final bosses, to use your—ridiculous gaming metaphor. But you are—you have never—"

He stops abruptly, drawing breath, and the sudden silence is loud, resounding. Kazunari can feel the weight of the words Midorima hasn't said out loud, hanging in the chilly night air between them. It's heavy, this. Important.

"I have never," Kazunari says quietly. Prompting.

"You—you have never been a _side quest_ ," Midorima says, and Kazunari can hear the quotation marks he's putting around the words. He looks away. Adjusts his glasses again. "You—haven't you ever played in a raid group?"

There's a second of astounded silence.

Kazunari can feel the delighted grin creeping over his face. "Shin-chan, are you saying—"

"Yes," Midorima almost snaps. "No." Red is creeping into his cheeks. "You don't—we've always—"

"You think we're a _team_ ," Kazunari says gleefully. He can't stop grinning. There's a warmth surging in his chest he can't control, unfurling in his stomach. "You think we're in this together. _Against_ them."

"I fail to see how _you_ did not see this," Midorima says. He's fully red-faced now, half-turning away to hide his embarrassment. (It's a good look on him.) "We've been playing together against the others now for a year and half—"

"Shin-chan—"

"What you said about Akashi pulling off that pass so easily," Midorima says, apparently not finished. He's half-glaring at the weeds on the pavement as he says it. "I—that has always been my problem with my Teikou teammates, don't you understand? That they have never had to put in the effort to achieve—anything. That they've never thought they had to."

"So—"

"But _we_ practiced for hours," Midorima says. "I _appreciated_ that we practiced for hours. And we earned it, and that—with Akashi, with Aomine, or Kise—it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't hold the same significance, even if we were successful on the first try or if we scored. —If it wasn't you."

There's a lump in Kazunari's throat. He swallows around it, his chest aching with the warmth. "Shin-chan," he teases, hoping his voice doesn't sound as raw as he feels. "How romantic."

"Don't be absurd," Midorima says, face still red as anything. In the light of the streetlamps, the colour in his cheeks has an orange tint to it. He averts his gaze again. "I just—you—how could you have thought you were unimportant?"

Kazunari slips his arms around the back of Midorima's neck. Midorima almost jerks back, startled, but then relaxes into his touch. This close, Kazunari has to tip his head backwards a little to see Midorima properly; Midorima meets his gaze, half embarrassed and half serious.

Kazunari grins at him, hoping his smile doesn't look as shaky as it feels. "Sorry," he says, trying for flippant.

(He means, _thank you_.)

"No, I should be the one apologising," Midorima says, and Kazunari can feel his breath on his nose, his mouth. Midorima tilts his head downwards; his arm wraps around Kazunari's waist, tentative at first, then more firmly. Kazunari feels himself swallow, tips his face upwards so their foreheads are touching. "I was not aware—I will endeavour to take note from now on. It was my fault, tonight."

"It goes both ways, Shin-chan," Kazunari says, and then shuts his eyes when Midorima closes the distance between them.

It's still the same, the sweetness and the heat of it, no matter how many times they kiss, no matter what the occasion. Midorima kisses like he does everything else: well, and with so much sincerity Kazunari feels the warmth in his stomach, and he rises on his toes to fit their bodies closer together, slinging his arms tighter around Midorima's neck—sighing into the kiss the way he thought he'd never be able to do, with this boy he'd always thought unreachable, leagues out of his league, in more ways than one.

(If nothing else, it's a reminder that they really are in this together.)

"We really should be getting home," Midorima says what seems like hours later, when they finally manage to disentangle themselves. "It's getting late."

"And whose fault is that, Shin-chan," Kazunari says, light. He stretches as they start the long walk back to the train station, falling easily into step with Midorima. "Your boyfriend is too adorable to be stood up more than the one accidental time, you better make sure it doesn't happen again."

Midorima's hand finds Kazunari's, their fingers slotting together like they were meant to be. "He is," he says, quietly and unexpectedly, and Kazunari nearly trips over his own feet, feels the heat in his cheeks before he even registers Midorima's half-smile. "And it won't."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've had most of this written for a year, and it was sitting in my drafts for a while until a few days ago (because I didn't have the courage to post it lol).


End file.
